Figuring out the Unbelievable:

Chris ran back to his room, shut the door and collapsed in the room’s chair. He was breathing heavily to the brink of almost hyperventilating and shaking with confused fear. His almost still-asleep legs felt even more like spaghetti. “Wh-what was wrong with that nurse? I-I mean, she was crazy and stunk.  She stunk like a dead animal. A dead animal?  She couldn’t have been dead, could she? Dead people don’t stand and grab and…Oh jeez, Chris. Pull yourself together!”

Chris calmed down slightly. “I gotta call Sarah!” He picked up the hospital room phone only to find nothing. No dial tone or busy sound. Chris checked the TV and every channel was snow. He checked the radio and nothing but static. The anger rose with no communication in sight. Then he started tearing the room apart. He threw all the linen that was in the closet on the floor. He slung his unzipped suitcase to the wall and his belongings went everywhere. Out of frustration, he fell to the floor sobbing. “Why? Why? WHY?! What is going on?!”

Chris pulled the bottom of his pink polo shirt to his eyes to dry the tears from his eyes and he saw a bag under his hospital bed. He stretched his arm under the bed and retrieved the bag.  His cell phone! The bag was sealed with a big red stripe across the center that read, “Evidence.” “It musta slid under there when I went postal and threw the suitcase.”

Chris turned the phone on with a quick prayer, “Please God, lemme have some battery power.”

*ba-la-la-ding-ding* “YES!” His phone powered on and he was in heaven. The missed calls and text messages started flooding in one after another. “Okay, the phones aren’t working, but the cell towers are? I’m not complaining!” Chris started reading his text messages from the last one he sent, “In office in about 15 minu…”

From Jeff’s Cell: “I see how you are. I wanted to make sure y’all are coming over tomorrow night and you won’t pick up ya damn phone when I call, ya know? Alright man, gimme a call when you get this message.” “Sorry, Jeff. I was a little busy being comatose, YA KNOW?! Jeez! Crap, I hope Jen and him are okay.”

*bee-doop*LOW-BATTERY*

From George Summerton: “Chris, look, your repetitive tardiness will not be tolerated much longer. You can’t sell houses if you’re not here. Anyway, see me when you get here. We need to talk.” “Oh screw you, George! I was late three times in two years, you jack hole!”

From Pastor Mike: “Hey Brother Chris, when you get this message I just want you to know that we’ve been praying for the Lord to wake you up and bring you to a full recovery so you and Sarah could get back to normalcy, and, if you’re reading this message, praise God! Also, the motorcycle ministry is doing a benefit ride to help out on your medical bills. Well, brother, God bless ya and we’ll see you Sunday. We love you.” “Now that’s a straight-up dude.”

“Yes, finally, a message from Sarah!”

*bee-doop*LOW BATTERY*

“Baby, if you get this message there’s some really weird stuff going on since the accident. The military has been all over Houston. There are people attacking other people. There’s a curfew. Houston and every surrounding county are under martial law. It smells awful outside; like rotten meat, and no, it’s not Lobo bringing dead cats home again. The news is just reporting that there’s some new virus from Asia and if you feel ill with anything to get to the hospital. Problem is, I’m feeling terrible and the hospitals are clogged and the National Guard is forcing people to go back home. So, I can’t even come visit you. If you wake up and read this, I’ll be home wai…

*bee-doop*You’re phone is powering down*

“Dammit! I gotta get to her. NOW!” Chris looked at the atomic clock “11:31pm.” Chris started playing 20 questions again and thought about the martial law, the curfew, if people are attacking people, could he defend himself with one arm in an attack? He didn’t want to get shot by the cops or the Army and really didn’t want to run into another Nurse Ratchet. Chris opened the curtains and looked down into Houston. There were a couple of buildings that had small fires burning in them. From what he could see under the street lights, there were some cars bashed into one another and looked like they had burned up. He couldn’t really see anything else. “Okay, Chris. Looks like we need a weapon. Hey, every hospital has Security, right? And if things are as bad as Sarah say they are, then this place must be locked down and Security has to be armed to the teeth. Okay, I’ll go down to the lobby and see if I can find an Officer.”

Chris went to the door and slowly turned the door handle and pulled the door open. Again, no sounds. “Good.”  Instead heading right this time, Chris headed left down the hall and saw a red exit sign at the end. “Ah! A stairwell!” Chris went into the stairwell and quietly closed the door. “Ugh, what’s that smell? It smells like that nurse did. What’s that noise?” Chris could hear some kind of stadium crowd sound coming from one of the floors below him. The sound wasn’t that of elated party-goers; it resembled more of a sound that reminded him of a recording he had heard on one of those late night am radio shows where the host played what he claimed was “The Sounds of Hell.”

He covered his nose and mouth with his shirt and started descending the stairs.